Masked
Masked
Published by Janelle Stalder
Copyright 2014 Janelle Stalder
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.
ALSO BY JANELLE STALDER
EDEN SERIES
EDEN
(BOOK ONE)
EDEN-WEST
(BOOK TWO)
EDEN-SOUTH
(BOOK THREE)
EDEN-EAST
(BOOK FOUR)
NEW WORLD SERIES
SWITCH
(BOOK ONE)
To my Mom,
For, and I quote, “bringing me into this world”. Couldn’t have done it without ya ;) Oh, and Dad.
Love you!!
xo
Jelly
TABLE OF CONTENTS
In a revolution, as in a novel, the most difficult part to invent is the end.
Alexis de Tocqueville
PROLOGUE
London, 2035
It started off just like any other day. It ended like no other.
Working at the restaurant wasn’t ideal, but for Bridgette it was the first step to independence. Getting out of the house every day for a few hours gave her a chance to reclaim a sense of peace. Living in a house with two very neurotic parents often left her feeling as tightly wound as they were.
Bridgette had just brought the last of the napkins down to the washing machine in the basement, when she heard heavy footfalls on the stairs. Her boss, Frank Abbot, came crashing through the door as though his heels were on fire. She knew something was wrong the second she got a good look at his pale face.
Dropping the last napkin into the dryer, she turned her body so it was fully facing him, bracing herself for whatever news had him troubled. In these times, it could be anything – and none of it good.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
“The army is here,” he said frantically. “You need to hide somewhere, Bridgette.” His head whipped from side to side as he looked around the small room.
She shook her head, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I can’t hide, I need to go home.”
“No!” His wide eyes landed on her. “Absolutely not. I’m not letting you go anywhere. They’re burning the whole city to the ground, Bridgette. Don’t you understand? They’re not just passing through, they’re attacking.”
Time stilled. Her heart raced, and yet the rushing sound of blood in her ears seemed to slow down, like part of her was still in the real world, and the other part had separated, looking down on the situation as an outsider. This could not be happening. She had heard her father talk about the army more times than she could count, but she had never thought they’d actually come to Leigh and attack. Why would they?
Bridgette had no idea where her father was, but she knew for a fact her mother and sister would still be at home. That thought had her crashing back to reality quickly, her hands shaking along with the rapid beating of her heart.
“I
have
to go home,” she pressed. “My family is there.”
His face fell. She could see his thoughts as plainly as if he’d said them out loud. They looked at one another, neither wanting to actually say the words. They were burning the city. What made her think their home would be spared? It wasn’t something she could consider at that moment. She just needed to go there, to see what was happening out on the streets for herself. There was no way she’d stay hidden while the rest of her friends and family fought for their lives. What would that make her?
“Don’t do it, Bridgette,” Frank said, shaking his head. He watched her carefully, seeing the determination in her eyes. “You can’t do anything for them if the army is there. You likely won’t even make it home. There are hundreds of them out there, just walking the streets. A pretty girl like you would be…” He stopped, his lips pressing together. When he spoke, his voice was rougher with emotion. “You have no idea what they’re capable of.”
All the more reason for her to go to her mother and sister. Her mother wasn’t a weak woman, quite the opposite actually. She was one of the toughest, most stubborn women Bridgette knew. She had no doubt that her mom would stand up for them, do something to try and defend her family. Even though both her and her father had become increasingly distant over the years, Bridgette knew her mother would not just stand by and let her family be destroyed.
Charlotte, her sister, on the other hand, was only sixteen, and smaller than any of the other girls in her grade. She’d be an easy target for the soldiers, and Bridgette couldn’t stand the thought of any of them hurting her. Charlotte had been hardened over the years. Bridgette had watched it happen as the war continued. When their grandmother died, she was sure a piece of Charlotte had died along with her. But even though she wasn’t quite the same girl as she’d been when they were younger, back in the day when she was just Charlie to Bridgette, there was still a spark of life in her eyes that Bridgette always fought to salvage.
When she looked at her sister, she could see such a bright spirit, a person with so much life and love inside her, even if she didn’t want everyone to know it. There was no way she was losing that today. The New World army had taken everything, but they wouldn’t take that. The leader, Ludwig Tennebris, was systematically destroying the world with his bombs and crazed ideals. But this – God, this he would not destroy. Not her home, not her life, and definitely not her family.
Bridgette started toward the door. She’d only taken three steps before Frank had both her arms in a tight grip. “Let me go, Frank,” she said. “I’m not your responsibility. I understand the risk, but I
need
to go to them.”
He was shaking his head the whole time she was speaking, and continued to do so even after she was done. “I can’t,” he said simply. He moved so quickly, she hardly had time to react before his arms were around her and he was dragging her further into the room. She struggled against him, but he was stronger than her.
“Frank,” she pleaded. “Let me go, please. Don’t do this.”
He stayed silent, tightening his grip further. Her ribs hurt under the pressure. Tears were spilling down the sides of her face, silent tracks of defeat. Suddenly her body was falling forward, his arms gone. Her knees hit the cement, jarring her. She winced against the impact as her hands flew out to prevent the rest of her body from the same abuse. Her palms scraped against roughness, biting into her flesh. The hinges of a door creaked loudly as Frank began to close it.
Bridgette scrambled up, turning around to face her boss.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but this is for your own good. Be quiet.”
“Frank, no!” She moved forward, but the door was already closed, the loud scrape of metal on metal ringing in her ears as he locked it. She had forgotten about this small freezer. They had a larger one in the kitchen upstairs, and rarely used it. The dust tickled her nose, darkness encompassing her.
Her fists pounded on the steel door as she cried out again and again. “Please, Frank! Please! Don’t leave me here!” She continued to pound, even though every bone in her body knew he no longer stood on the other side. No one did. She was alone. Locked away from those she loved; away from a world that was once again being terrorized.
“Frank!” she screamed again. “Let me out! I have to go to them. Please!”
How long she kept it up, she didn’t know. Eventually her hands ached and her throat grew raw from yelling and the dry air inside the freezer. She rested her forehead against the door, tears streaming down her face as she still begged to be released, her pleas now whispers that only she could hear. Finally she turned, letting her body slide down onto the floor, all hope lost. Hugging her knees to her chest Bridgette rocked back and forth, wondering if she was going to die like this, alone and afraid.
She must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, her eyes were flying open at the sound of something crashing. The breaking of glass was clear, right before she heard the whooshing sound of fire igniting. The restaurant was burning. Bridgette stood, backing away from the door that had been her only hope earlier. Now it was her certain death. Her breathing quickened, every inch of her body shaking in fear. She would be burned alive down here, locked in this freezer. She wasn’t sure if the door would keep out the flames, but she highly doubted it.
New tears marked her cheeks as she huddled in the back corner, waiting for death to take her. She thought of Charlotte, wondering what fate her sister had met. She pictured her lovely face; that smooth, porcelain skin, and those bright blue eyes. She was the only person Bridgette loved unconditionally. Even her parents hadn’t earned that from her. There was nothing her little sister could do that would cause her love to waver, and the saddest thing was, Bridgette doubted she even knew that. Would she have the chance to tell her?
A loud cracking sound reached her ears. The building was breaking apart slowly. No, she thought, her sister would never know. Bridgette would never see her again, or anyone else she cared for. This was it. At nineteen, Bridgette was going to leave the living and join those who watched down from above. She wondered what would be waiting for her there. Would she see her grandmother again? Charlotte?
Another crack sounded, but not the same as before. Bridgette knew the difference instantly. That was the sound of lightening. She lifted her head, listening closely. Then she heard it again, thunder. It was raining. A sliver of hope slipped into her heart as she continued to listen to nature’s defence against the flames that threatened to engulf her.
Time passed slowly. When she finally heard movement on the other side of the door, she had no concept of just how much time had gone by. It was obvious that a person was walking around the laundry room beyond. Enemy or friend? She couldn’t be sure, but at this point she didn’t really care. Anything was better than being stuck in this old, stuffy freezer.
Anything?
Her inner voice argued. She was well aware of the things the New World soldiers could do to her. The possibilities were endless.
For a moment she waged an inner battle before finally banging on the steel in front of her.
“Help!” she cried out. “Please. I’m in here.”
The footsteps approached, halting just on the other side.
“Bridge?” came a familiar voice, muffled by the layers of metal between them. She sighed in relief, tears springing in her eyes.
“Yes, yes it’s me, Seamus. Please let me out,” she begged. Seamus Brown was the best friend of Pete McKay. She’d gone to school with both of them, although she was closer to McKay, as his friends called him. There was no doubt in her mind he had sent Seamus to find her. McKay was the type of guy who always looked out for you if he considered you his friend.